Where chance had failed,
Children crawl
In search for scraps of food.
Through jumbled concrete
Statured men
Do naught but stir the feud.

A blow to ribs,
Aside you fly,
No longer staining stairs,
That guide the riches
Of the town
Towards their own affairs.

In dark the light
Shone ever bright
Of lonely mansion one.
A frail man
Of gentle heart
Withholds your will to run.

“Come meet the others,
Just inside
And feast through night, we will.
In times like these,
Outside, you’ll freeze,
Sit by my fire, still.”

A homeless shelter
Fit for kings
As banquets filled the rooms.
But ‘fore the dawn
These naive souls would
Find the truth that looms.

The once so crowded
Hall of hopes
Seemed ever thinning through.
Despite the music,
Song and dance
That merrily bled through.

With jolly laughs,
The children played
And ate their faces packed.
While chain and bolt
Slid to their place
Escape no longer fact.

Jonathon Best© 2009